


An Order

by Jqck



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: M/M, kingdom au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jqck/pseuds/Jqck
Summary: This is based from Kingdom AU of my dear friend Munchingpotatoe012! She and three of my other friends had bounced ideas off each other for intricate world-building, a more elaborate setting, and for more BBS boys (with powers and heartbreaking backstories, too!) to be involved in this AU. All their ideas are amazing! Most of them had drawn amazing stuff for this too! And I am inspired by their hard work, talent, and creativity, that's why I came up with a story like this. All credits go to them <3I hope you enjoyed!Sorry for the errors, too. I know I missed some. XD





	An Order

**Author's Note:**

> This is based from Kingdom AU of my dear friend Munchingpotatoe012! She and three of my other friends had bounced ideas off each other for intricate world-building, a more elaborate setting, and for more BBS boys (with powers and heartbreaking backstories, too!) to be involved in this AU. All their ideas are amazing! Most of them had drawn amazing stuff for this too! And I am inspired by their hard work, talent, and creativity, that's why I came up with a story like this. All credits go to them <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Sorry for the errors, too. I know I missed some. XD

Another suitor presented himself by the boundary of Prince Moo’s land in the west, Kingdom of Alces. It was the prince of the Southern Isle, Prince Arthur. His red hair slicked back in a quiff, with a mouth always turned up at one corner, eyes that looked like halfway to slumber. He was wearing a velvet cape strapped to the neckline of the sparkling coat. Instead of normal regimental buttons, the prince’s cuffs were detailed with little coins that resembled the burning iceberg crest of the royal family in the south. The suitor also had a waistcoat trimmed with blue embroideries and gold lace details—the combined color of the west and south kingdom banners, easily telling that he came here to ask the hand of the prince. 

 

Terroriser eyed the man on the other side of the gate of the boundary, and then the long line behind the visitor. Occupying the road that led to the Kingdom of Alces were horses of the rarest breed, carriages of gold bricks, servants of different expertise, a hundred sheep that made the best woolen breeches, and other gifts for the West Prince.

 

“The prince’s personal guard.” The red-haired man bowed but his head was still tilted to smirk at Terroriser. “I heard so many things about you.”

 

Terroriser held the man’s gaze and waved to the guards above to open the gate. He didn’t break his stare as the black iron gate was lifted to give these people a pass. 

 

There was a loud metal clunk as the gate fully opened. Yet none of them moved. The longer Terroriser stood there, the more he wanted to punch the Southern Prince who had a growing smirk as he waited for the guard’s next words.

 

They both knew that if a person crossed the border without the official welcoming from the representative of the Kingdom, they would be shot by an arrow to the throat. Terroriser hoped that the smug prince would forget that rule so he would perish from Moo’s life without any effort from Terroriser’s part.

 

With a thinning temper, Terroriser fished a scroll out of the inside of his coat and read the words. “Welcome to Kingdom Alces, the land of the fierce and the bold, the west side of Pasdrine, the other half of Flames Sea, and the peacekeeper of the Dead North. King Regent Holden and Prince Moo are delighted to have you in the castle. They expect that you cherish this kingdom the way you would respect and admire the royal family. I am Brian, and I will lead you to the right directions.”

 

And Terroriser, with a heavy heart, led the suitor to Moo.

 

It was a day of traveling. He would have brought them to the hardest paths towards the castle—he was thinking of the outskirts where people steal even the soles of one’s shoes or the end of the kingdom where they could witness Flames Sea lick their toes like a tongue of lava. But the visitor of highest importance was in his golden carriage with a cold ice drink, so if Terroriser would try to make it hard for the brat, he would only torture the poor people he brought with him.

 

The sun was harsh, but the western and southern skin could endure it. Terroriser, on the other hand, was scorching red. The skin around his already burned eye itched. He wasn't from the Kingdom of Alces nor from the Southern Isle. He was from the Silver Peak, home of glacier castles and stalactite swords. But it was now called the Dead North. It was now a resting place for all the people who passed from the Kingdom of Alces, the Southern Isle, and Mist Forest. Everyone from North who survived the thawing of the mountain snow lived in different kingdoms. The royal families welcomed and gave them shelter.

 

All four survivors.

 

Terroriser was the youngest son of King Bard in the North. Starting when he was seven, he was always brought by the King to the East of Pasdrine, Kingdom of Alces, to befriend kids his age. No one really found Terroriser likable for he was always good at games and he could outsmart regular kids. As years passed by, he gave up on having friends more and more. **He would be king someday,** he thought. **A king needs no friend.** Eventually, when Prince Moo was old enough to mingle with other kids, he was introduced to Terroriser. Moo already had a long hair then, and eyes too big on his fluffy face. 

 

Then Moo kicked Brian at his right knee and laughed.

 

It pissed Brian off even until now.

 

But since then, they had been great friends. Moo was even smarter than Terroriser, despite being years younger than the northerner, and he could outplay Brian in his own game. They always had fun when they were together though. So when their fathers’ meetings had to be adjourned, there would only be devastation in their young heart. 

 

But after a week or so, Moo who would insist to Terroriser’s father that they visit Kingdom of Alces. Sometimes, Terroriser would lie to his parents that he would practice hunting for a week in the mountains, but in truth, he would sneak and visit Moo.

 

So when Silver Peak was destroyed, Terroriser’s family dying with it, Brian was adopted by Moo’s family. No one really knew who he really was but Moo and his parents. But the king and queen died not a month after he arrived at the castle, and Moo was named cursed by his own people because of how unlucky he was. Both an orphan, Brian and Moo got closer than ever. Brian did everything he could to teach Moo what his parents would if they were alive. 

 

At the age of twenty seven, he had realized how he wanted to be looked at—as Moo’s protector, camaraderie, and best friend. And there was no better way to do that than being a soldier himself.

 

So he started dedicating his life to training. He became a guard first, and then a soldier, and then surprisingly, a teacher of fighting arts when Panda, the captain of the guard, was busy. But the King Regent, Moo’s uncle, recognized Terroriser’s efforts.

 

He made him the prince’s personal soldier, a person to follow him all day and night. And that was the day when he felt that he belong. He only had to be in Moo’s side all the time.

 

It didn’t take long for him to learn the ways and places of the prince, so eventually, the two of them had established a routine.

 

And that included wild kisses after turning sharp hallway corners, secret library visits in the middle of the night, and unexpected hot baths. They didn’t realize that they had more feelings for each other than what they expected—all it took was Terroriser seeing Moo undress. One grab and then it was all groans, moans, and pulling of hair right after.

 

Well, Terroriser loved to revisit those kinds of memories, especially when tasked to do annoying stuff like this one. 

 

Before the sun began to set, they arrived at their destination. In front of them was a mountain, small enough to not be seen from afar but tall enough that it blocked their view of the sky when they looked up. The base of it was still rough and jagged, still the texture of rocks and cliffs, but the top half was sculpted, polished, and made into a castle. And around it, instead of a moat, there were big pointed rocks that poked out around the mountain, as if the castle was inside the mouth of a gigantic fanged dragon. 

 

“This way,” Terroriser invited the party to the steep staircase. “Leave the carriage down here. It is easier by foot with that slope. That would also let everyone see the exterior of the whole castle for the staircase loops around it.” He told the servants.

 

“No,” said the echoing voice inside the said carriage. “My servants will carry me, my carriage, and my gifts inside. It will show Prince Moo that my servants are strong and of a high caliber.”

 

Terroriser hid his shock, for the servants were already trembling in exhaustion. This weather was not meant to glorify them yet they made it through the whole day. He could only imagine the distress of hauling that carriage up the steep stairs.

 

Did Terroriser care? Yes. Was it his position to argue and take action? No. So he let everyone else follow him, but he did make sure to take it slow and pretend that he required rest so the servants would have some too. Sometimes, he would pass his waterskin to a servant who looked like a second shy from fainting. 

 

When they reached the entrance to the castle, Terroriser saluted to the drawbridge in front of him. “Corvus oculum corvi non eruit.”

 

And the drawbridge groaned first before it started lowering down, dusts puffing out of the castle walls. He patiently waited for the tip of the drawbridge to land by Terroriser’s feet.

 

And then there was Moo. He was wearing a silk top that fit nicely around his slender torso. Its wide sleeves ended in a slanted cut, letting tapering ropes of cloth gracefully follow the man’s movement. He had crisp breeches on underneath a silk skirt layer opened at the front, giving the prince an even more elegant aura. His brown hair was cropped to the sides, and the soft and curly tresses at the center of his head were long and danced to the wishes of the dusty wind. He had a strong jaw, thin lips, and wide eyes that always sported innocence. He was a beautiful deception.

 

Moo hadn’t moved an inch, nor let his eyes wandered away from his guests, but Terroriser recognized the blush on his cheeks, giving Brian a hint that the prince noticed he was being checked out by his own guard.

 

A soldier came to Terroriser and handed him his sword. Brian took it and walked towards Moo, his eyes never left the Prince, and he made sure to tease the beautiful man as he flicked his tongue over his smirking lips. And Moo glared at him because of that. He was sure that the prince would punish him later for doing that in public, but Terroriser was tired so he would let Moo take over tonight.   
  
When he was close enough, Terroriser turned around and faced the guests, his longsword serving as a cane in between his legs, his right hand holding the hilt and his left covering the right. The moment Terroriser sported the right stance, Moo stepped forward and bowed to the visitors, his clothing wrinkling for a moment as he curtsied. Once he had the perfect pose again, Moo spoke, “Friends from the south, I am Prince Moo of Kingdom of Alces. I do apologize if my uncle cannot join us in this meeting for he is not feeling well. However, I am completely aware of your endeavors and I would like to listen on what you have to say, Prince Arthur of the Southern Isle. What will my kingdom acquired if you wished to ask for my hand?”

 

Events like these, having suitors pursuing Moo, should have made Terroriser worried. He wasn’t a royalty of any kingdom anymore so he had no right to ask for Moo’s hand-- he had nothing to offer. And being this close to him, Brian would have a good vantage point if one day, a young man or woman of blue blood would sweep Moo off of his feet and away from Terroriser. 

 

But every single one of them didn’t pass Moo’s requirement, like this idiot prince from the south.

 

And Terroriser reported that to Moo, using their hidden signals: holding the hilt of his longsword with his right hand. *Compassion over privilege.* It was why Moo would not allow this meeting to happen inside the castle. All these talks would be nonsense in the end.

 

There was a shock on the face of Prince Arthur. “My dearest prince Moo, forgive my straightforwardness, but are we not heading inside the castle first? We would very much love to admire the engraving structure of your walls. We also heard that you had polished the gargoyles hung by the pillars yourself! And if it was this impressive outside, I am certain it would be more grand inside!”

 

What a douchebag. He didn’t want to admire the castle from outside earlier.

 

“Apologies, I forgot to mention,” Moo stated as kitchen servants brought out food and ale outside of the castle and onto the tables lined up not far from the party. “There are ale and roasted pigs that will be served for everyone who came with Prince Arthur. The Prince and I will be discussing business as you eat. Go and help yourselves.”

 

The southern prince stammered for being ignored and when he saw that his servants helped themselves, leaving the carriage, wagons of gold, countless sheep, and his other gifts discarded. 

 

Moo gracefully sauntered towards the other Prince, and Terroriser followed but not without wanting to stab the other prince’s eyes for ravishing what wasn’t his. 

 

The two royalties walked side by side, the suitor presenting the gifts himself and explaining how everything would look good to Moo. But for Terroriser, Moo didn’t need any of those to look astonishing. In fact, he was even breathtaking without anything on.

 

A grin spread across his face at the clear image of the memory.

 

Unfortunately, Prince Arthur caught him and now a knife was pointed millimeters away from Terroriser’s throat. The crowd gasped, but at the next second, it fell onto deep silence, the courtyard nothing short of grave tranquility. 

 

“My prince, this guard of yours has been mocking me since I have arrived. And just now, I saw him ridiculing me and my gifts for you.” Prince Arthur snarled at Terroriser, gone was the boastful composure.

 

Terroriser stood up straight. If he could only just laugh at the moment, he would. He didn’t have to look at Moo to know if he believed this liar, because Brian knew he wouldn’t. Terroriser was tested for these kinds of instances far too many times—from princes, to queens, to kings—because for some reason, they always didn’t like Terroriser. He’d been mocked, arrowed, punched for many things he didn’t do, but he didn’t say anything bad about those people.

 

He all kept it in his mind.

 

So there was nothing new to this situation. Like always, Moo was very composed as he put a hand on Prince Arthur’s shoulder. “Dearest Prince, it is up to me to punish my guard if he did disrespect you. I promise he will receive appropriate sanctions if proven guilty.”

 

It was satisfying to see panic dance around the South Prince’s eyes, because he also heard Moo’s tone, there would be a trial first before Terroriser would be punished. And they had many witnesses to prove that Prince Arthur was lying.

 

Plus, if Terroriser explained to Moo why he was grinning, the trial would be immediately dismissed.

 

It wasn’t a surprise too when Brian was tackled to the floor, a punch swiped across his left cheek. It stung a bit, but not enough to categorize himself in the disadvantaged side of the fight. The south prince was weak--Terroriser was realizing that as punches came and came. He wouldn’t have minded if he just punched all the seven deadly sins out of him, but the shite leaned to Brian’s ear and spoke, “I will hurt him. I will engrave my name all over his smooth skin, all over his curves. He will scream so loud every night I make love with him and you will hear it. I will even make you watch. I will fucking make you watch.”

 

There was hot flame inside his chest and it choked him. His first instinct was to fight and behead this son of a bitch, but his mind changed course at the last second. He hurled the south prince to the side and got up to move towards where Moo was. Something was clicking inside Terroriser’s brain, and it went faster and faster as he forced himself to reach his prince as quickly as possible. The anger was there in his system, along with fright and worry for his Prince. His hand stretched forward and it never stopped shaking until he was holding Moo’s wrist. 

 

Terroriser searched Moo’s face.

 

His prince showed no emotion, a practice he did when he was among his people, but his free hand squeezed Terroriser’s shoulder in reassurance. 

 

And that was what woke him up from his fear of Moo getting harmed—that one touch of authority. Moo was not Brian’s lover at the moment, nor Brian was his partner. He was a guard, Moo was the Prince. 

 

And there was a threat.

 

Terroriser spun, his cape billowing behind him as he unsheathed his sword and displayed in a defensive stance in front of Moo. His eyebrows lowered, the shadows on his face darkened.

 

“Fucking touch him,” Terroriser breathed, the tip of his sword drawing a slow dangerous line on the ground. “Your heart will meet the end of this sword.”

 

A Cheshire grin, so wide it was almost ear to ear, decorated the south prince’s face. It caught Terroriser off-guard because the man had a glimmer in his eyes a threatened person wouldn’t have. “Oh, your loud mouth. It’s too late now.”

 

There was a tug on Terroriser’s cape and he turned around to see Moo with wide terrified eyes on his small face, with a complexion as white as teeth.

 

Blood trickled down his chin.

 

Terroriser’s mind completely stopped as Moo swayed. Shock stopped him from calling out for his Prince. All he could do was snake an arm around Moo’s shoulder before he fell to the ground.

 

“Moo?” Terroriser pressed Moo close to him. “My prince?”

He witnessed his Prince convulsed, his hands clawing at the little wound on his cheek where the south Prince kissed him. His mouth opened to gasp for air and he seemed to need more and more.

 

Moo had healing powers--the south price didn’t know that--but if it was taking him this long to heal himself, then this was bad. The poison might be beyond the Prince’s power.

 

No. Dread slipped through and traveled across his spine.

 

He wasn’t dying in Brian’s arms.

 

In the prince’s silence, his people found violence.

 

The courtyard turned into a battleground—the west guards against the south soldiers. Rage tore the celebration. A celebration Moo was excited about. The Prince of Alces didn’t want it to be about the possible admirer--he wanted it to be a feast for everyone. A thanksgiving for choosing his kingdom first before choosing others. His kind heart prevailed. For what? Brian would rather Moo be evil and merciless if it would save his life in the long run.

 

Terroriser just held Moo, bug-eyed and scared.

 

This was what he’d been fearing since the start of his life as a personal guard: seeing Moo hurt and being useless and powerless to do anything. With a promise of dedicating his life for the prince, Terroriser would give anything to reverse Moo’s condition--he would drink the poison straight from the cup if he had to if it meant Moo would flourish with life and energy.

 

“My father would not allow me to do something to our kingdom, being the last son that I am.” The insolent prince chuckled. “Even being the last in line for the throne, I am royalty and I have a power. I just gave the West Prince a taste. Call the King Regent and surrender Kingdom of Alces to me or Prince Moo will die. I have the cure. Sit me to the throne, surround me with my own soldiers.”

 

Terroriser heard the south prince talked worthless words. His bones vibrated to the sounds of iron to iron clanks, melodious along the battle cries of his very own soldiers. His body being nudged by the arrowheads embedding on his back—he didn’t count them but he knew by the blood that drew a line from the corner of his mouth to his chin, they were enough to form wooden wings on his back.

 

He paid them no mind. He just stared at the terrified eyes of Prince Moo, their hands clenched together for strength. This made it impossible for Terroriser to trace a fingertip at the side of the Prince’s face, grazing the wrinkles of his eye, the outline of his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw. 

 

His beautiful Prince, dying, in a way that Terroriser felt almost physically. As he held Moo, he could feel the cold was taking over like ice on the fallen man’s skin, the heavy breathing that quaked the lean chest the more time had passed, the gradual weakening of his hold around Terroriser’s hand.

 

A sharp pain took root from his shoulder blade. Brian curved his back and gasped, his eyes watering. “Did you hear anything I said, soldier?” The Prince plucked another arrow from his back. “ You have nothing else you can do.” Another arrow. “Prince Moo is the only other person with powers here.” And another.

 

“S-Stop.” Terroriser heard Moo croaked. “H-He’s hurting!”

 

The south prince continued, plucked all the arrows from Terroriser’s back in every word he sputtered. “You. Do. Not. Deserve. To. Stand. Before. Us. Royalties. You’re a fool!” And when the last arrow was pulled from his body, Terroriser’s head craned sideways and upward, to face the panting south prince from his rage.

 

A grin stretched on Terroriser’s face, confident and gloating. “Surprise, your highness.” 

 

His palm slammed onto the ground.

 

Rocks as huge as the giant fangs of the castle grew out from the courtyard—not one, not two, but eleven. The ground trembled, the rocks rising so tall that they blocked the setting sun from reaching them. The temperature dropped, too, crumbs of gravels showered them.

 

All three of them were caged in rocks.

 

To give him credit, the south Prince had his eyes widening, as he realized what Terroriser did and what exactly he was. With a face so red in madness, Prince Arthur was fast to snarl and lunge at Terroriser, both hands outstretched. 

 

But another spike rose from the ground, impaling the south prince mid-air. Terroriser met Arthur’s eyes first, his partially burned face free of smug but bare with pain and anger. He would have spat at him, if only the rock didn’t grow so fast.

 

“Brian.” Terroriser whipped his head down to Moo, and he saw that the prince’s chest was glowing—a pulsing, blossoming red emitting heat. He was so distracted by the light that Moo had to slide a hand to cup Terroriser’s cheek to capture his attention. “R-Remember, I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you.”

 

The clattering of rocks rising around them drowned out the cries of war outside, they rose and they met at the top like fingers lacing, completely blanketing them underneath shadows. 

 

Terroriser laid Moo to the ground, his movements tearing more muscles on his back, blood oozing from it. He didn’t care—he stood up straight like how he would as he saluted the King regent and Prince Moo. 

 

And then he clapped. 

 

The world stopped moving. He stopped breathing. 

 

He clapped again.

 

In one huge blow, all boulders and rocks that formed above them disassembled and dropped in the form of water, causing the light to reach him and Moo. The water splashed to the ground, clear crystals that bounced on the earth and a few feet back up in the air. The fighting died down at the surprising event, the metal to metal parries became less frequent until there was nothing at all and the shouts turning to murmurs until it was only air that remained whistling in their ears.

 

One side of the war was wondering why their prince was glowing on the ground, and the other side had questioning looks on their faces because their prince was missing.

 

If Terroriser wasn’t in an excruciating pain, he would have told them that their prince turned into liquid too—from bones, to flesh, to skin. 

 

The cure, too, became liquid.

 

It was the only reason he was still upright like this despite his vision tunneling, his spine collapsing and his knees buckling. He might have a weak body, but his heart had another war to win. For it hurt to see Moo on the verge of death, the light on the chest turning darker and darker. There had no time.

 

Terroriser shut his eyes and cleared his mind. He felt the water using his mind, imagining he was kneeling to the ground, his fingertips dipping in the puddles to send ripples. He felt them and their life, warm would be the liquid that was once the earth, scorching would be the water that was once flesh. 

 

Objects that turned into water had already evaporated. Except for the cure. The cure should be otherworldly to the touch. 

 

Could be the South Prince lying? Was there even a cure?

 

In his mind, he was getting up from crouching to test other puddles again. But his eyes caught sight of a glittering puddle not far away from him. His mind was sure he had tested it--he remembered it being shallow that the water hadn’t even soaked the bed of his nails. Still, he proceeded to its direction, leaning in when he was standing by it. 

 

Terroriser’s reflection wasn’t there. When he touched the puddle for the second time, he snapped his hand back. It wasn’t water anymore--it didn’t even break from his touch. It looked like melted silver fresh from the furnace.

 

Terroriser opened his eyes, and blew a careful breath. His hands shaped the air--palming the wind and directing his fingers into finer gestures. 

 

Then both his hands scooped the air.

 

The water around rose and was gathered like a serpent river--it was constantly following but not beyond the shape Terroriser give it. 

 

Then he clapped his hands again.

 

The water sizzled and became smoke. The only thing remaining in the air was silver. That handful of liquid was orchestrated by his outstretched palm to where Moo was lit in black light. Terroriser poured it into his prince’s mouth.

 

As the last drop entered Moo’s system, Terroriser’s eyes rolled back, and not long after, he hit the ground. His limbs were feeling like they were anchored to somewhere in hell. He opened his eyes, but his sight was also getting overpowered by the shadows that it was hard to confirm if Moo lived.

 

The last thing he saw was four familiar men on horses. Two people with paints on their faces, one elf, and one in a feathered mask, all surrounding both Moo and Terroriser, wielding swords to anyone who came near them.

 

Might be their friends from other kingdoms.

 

\--

The next time he woke up, he couldn’t move without any pain. Greeting him was the ceiling of Prince’s Moo’s four-postered bed and the cold wind coming from the window to his left.

 

Cold wind? What season was it?

 

Then to his right, a person in a robe was sitting on a chair. The morning light didn’t reach the man’s face quite yet, but he knew it was Moo. He could recognize his hair, soft loose curls that gathered over one shoulder. Terroriser wanted to touch it, weave that cotton tresses between his fingers and prove that he wasn’t dreaming about his prince being alive. 

 

Then lips met lips.

 

It wasn’t long--Moo inched away with an indifferent look on his face. He remained leaning on Terroriser, his face ghosting over the injured man’s. “If you die, I die. Perhaps not physically, but the pain would all be the same if I didn’t have my soul in me anymore.” And the sultry prince turned and walked towards the oak door.

 

Terroriser was left stunned, the kiss, short as it was, still made him out of breath.

 

Before the prince slipped past the door, Moo suddenly stopped to look over his shoulder, his silky hair cascading down onto his slender back in the process. “Brian?”

 

“Yes, my prince?”

 

“I feel great joy knowing that you’re alive.”


End file.
